


Of a Kind

by RedFlagsAndDiamonds



Series: "Life of the House" One-Shots [4]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Fingering, Consensual Infidelity, Consensual Underage Sex, Crossover, Established Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Established Relationship, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Hotels, Infidelity, Lifestyle Porn, Lolita, Lube play, M/M, Marriage, Marriage of Convenience, Orgasm Control, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 03:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13378710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFlagsAndDiamonds/pseuds/RedFlagsAndDiamonds
Summary: At an event in France, Tony and Peter encounter billionaire Bruce Wayne and his "ward."





	Of a Kind

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically part of my one-shots series following DaScribbla's "Private and Intimate Lives of the House" series, but it stands alone by itself as well. 
> 
> The DC elements are based around Chris Nolan's "Dark Knight" series. I feel I should apologize in advance to any die-hard DC fans. You have been warned. 
> 
> This wound up involving much more inspiration than I anticipated from Nabokov's "Lolita." Certain elements and lines of dialogue have been borrowed, particularly from the 1997 film adaptation.
> 
> If anyone's curious, my headcanon for Dick Grayson was a young Max Benitz.

 

A cool, late afternoon breeze wafted through the open French doors leading from the balcony and flew across the bed, sharpening Peter’s nipples as he whimpered again and arched his back.

“Hey – easy, baby boy, calm down…”

Peter almost huffed out a breathless little laugh, before it was swallowed up his high-pitched, helpless moaning.

It was easy for Tony to ask him to “calm down” – he wasn’t the one sprawled naked over silk sheets, tilting his pelvis obediently to ride the three fingers buried knuckle-deep in his ass, completely at the mercy of the gentle Parisian wind and the tingling lube that Tony had brought along as a treat.

“You’re lookin’ a little flushed – think you can last much longer?” Tony inquired calmly, no more affected than if he were ordering one shot over the legal driving limit.

“I – _fuuuck –_ I- I dunno –“

“Mm, guess it’s my turn then.”

Gasping in a breath, Peter let him scoop up his hips and pull him nearly vertical, until their bodies were aligned at a sensitive spot.

“Annnnnnd just so you don’t get bored –“

Before Peter could even lift his head to ask Tony what he meant, a dollop of lube had been slathered over the head of his cock, Tony’s thumb polishing it into the slit as he pulled his fingers free and began working his way inside.

He squealed, he squirmed, a tiny drop of the fluid managed to find it’s way into a particularly sensitive spot under his foreskin, and he let out a screech that probably left Tony’s ears ringing.

When he finally, _finally_ came, the orgasm was almost an afterthought, just a final release of all the tension before his body could bring itself back from overdrive and begin calming into quiescence.

Unlike his flesh, however, the lube couldn’t be quieted, and by the time Tony had gasped out his own climax and collapsed into the sheets beside him, Peter was already whimpering and pleading afresh.

Tony snorted, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Christ, to be fifteen again.”

 

*

 

Dinner was an automatic five courses, sorbet served in between, and an honest to god five forks lined in a row next to the plate, which was something Peter thought only happened in those “I married a prince” movies that came on TV around Christmastime.

The dining room was packed, the tables filled with hundreds of old and old-ish men in tuxedos and blazers, while beautiful girls in low cut dresses laughed at their bad jokes. None of them looked a day over twenty-five.

As far as Peter could tell, he was the only boy, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the others had guessed about their relationship, or if they’d swallowed the introductions that Tony offered all evening:

“… my summer intern, good head on his shoulders…”

Most nodded politely, some offered sly grins that wouldn’t look out of place on Wile E. Coyote, and one or two asked about the missus.

“On the yacht in Sydney, didn’t want to drag the munchkin all the way out here for three weeks…”

Every one of them came from some background of invention or industry, through which they had made themselves titans (as well as billions of dollars) and gathered quite contentedly for the summit each year to share boasts and pat themselves on the back.

For all that he adored the man at his side, Peter felt a distinct need to wash.

They had started working their way through some unpronounceable duck dish (they didn’t offer burgers in this place, and Peter had certainly asked) when he noticed the dark haired man staring at them from across the room, and his stomach leapt into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he whispered – it was one of those places you felt obligated to whisper in – and kicked Tony gently under the table.

“There’s a guy back there – no, behind you, by the doors – doesn’t he look exactly like –“

Tony paled and turned around quickly.

“Shit – don’t look, keep your head down –“

“What –“

“Anthony!” an over-suave voice called, and Tony’s eyes rolled to the ceiling behind his shades.

“Christ, too late – Bruce!” he gushed, an ingratiating smile plastered on his face that gave off more an impression of suppressed pain than surprised pleasure.

Peter sat motionless, a bit stunned while both men exchanged pleasantries, trying force his brain to reconcile that somehow, his life now involved attending the same events as Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne.

“Thought you normally sent Fox to show up at these things.” Tony was mentioning as he resumed his seat, watching somewhat helplessly while Wayne snapped over a couple of waiters to begin pushing their tables together.

“Ergh, he’s got some merger in Wakanda to deal with, and anyway, this one wanted to go to Comic Con next week.”

Wayne punctuated the statement with a squeeze to the hip of the boy next to him, who Peter noticed for the first time.

He couldn’t have been much older than sixteen, dark haired, his eyes a steely aquamarine and an impressive flush of color to his cheeks that looked as though it had been airbrushed on.

“Oh, this is Richard… Dick, Tony Stark –“

“Dick? My condolences.” Tony quipped with the handshake, and Peter’s ears started to burn as the boy smirked overconfidently.

“I’ve learned to control the grief.”

“See you brought your own little friend though…”

Jumping slightly when he realized he was being addressed, Peter swallowed nervously and only just remembered to offer his hand.

“Um – Parker. Peter. Peter Parker. Sir.”

His ears had to actually have burst into flame by now, everyone was just pretending not to notice…

Dick was barely muffling a laugh behind his knuckles.

“Peter’s interning under Stark Industries’ new apprenticeship program – been making some serious waves with a military grade adhesive, haven’t you?” Tony jumped in mercifully.

“Yeah, it’s uh – it’s coming along great, yeah.”

Wayne nodded with a slight smirk, one brow lifted, and it wasn’t clear whether or not he believed Tony’s song and dance.

“A New York native, then?”

“Uh, Queens.” Peter mumbled.

A choked sound came across the table as Dick snorted around a mouthful of peach nectar.

“How’d you afford an internship? Selling girl scout cookies? – Ow!” he whinged suddenly, after Wayne flicked him on the shoulder.

“Actually, it was a national competition – scholarship stuff.” Peter shot back, annoyance returning some of his articulation. “How about you?”

It was a risk, a big one, but it seemed to pay off when the other boy turned red and Wayne chuckled without much humor.

“Say, Mr. Stark and I are gonna wanna talk business, and I’m pretty sure this place has a gaming area or something – Dick, why don’t you and Peter go play around a bit? Win each of us something fun.”

Peter opened his mouth slightly, ready to object – he wasn’t so much of a child that he needed to be dismissed while grown-ups talked – but he felt a brush of fingers against his thigh before Tony cocked his head towards the door.

“Go ahead – I’ll come getcha later.”

Reluctantly, he pushed his chair back from the table and started off, pausing briefly to gape for a moment as Dick wrapped his arms around Wayne’s neck from behind, in a decidedly more than platonic embrace.

“Don’t eat too much ice cream.”

“No promises.” Dick snarked back, before straightening his clip-on tie and stalking towards the door, pointedly ahead of Peter.

As they strode through the lobby and down the gilded main corridor, Peter debated furiously with himself until deciding that it wasn’t particularly worth trying to form a rapport with this kid, who clearly made Flash Thompson look reserved and modest.

“So how long’ve you and Stark been screwing?” he suddenly asked bluntly, before Peter could launch into a prepared barrage of acid remarks.

“I – but – that’s – no –“

Dick rolled his eyes.

“I just _act_ like an idiot, dumbass. Why else d’you think Bruce keeps me around?”

Peter swallowed uncomfortably, growing anger starting to heat up his cheeks.

“It’s none of your business.”

“So you _are_ fucking?”

“Shut up!”

They’d reached the doors to the casino, where a blue-jacketed hotel attendant took one look at them and pointed to a side door, which revealed an impressively stocked, neon colored arcade alley.

“Let’s do ‘Devil Woman’,” Dick suggested, with a tone that didn’t really offer room for argument, as he wandered over to a metallic gold game cabinet emblazoned with printed bullet holes and a scantily clad, buxom girl of indeterminately Asian origin, and hefted one of the connected fake machine guns.

“Bruce’s been training me in the private gallery back home, so…”  
Determinedly raising the other gun, Peter ground his teeth and snapped back.

“Tony always sleeps in – I taught myself.”

They locked eyes, and Dick’s lip cocked up with an unmistakable sneer.

“Just so you know, that’s not really something to brag about.”

Peter fumed helplessly, but before another word could be exchanged, the game activated, both boys turned their attention to the screen, and began gunning down virtual demon women.

 

*

 

“I say this with the least possible intended criticism,” Tony muttered, toying with the base of his champagne flute as it was refilled by a balding waiter, “but you need to teach that kid some subtlety.”

“Hypocrisy, Anthony – neither of us are particularly subtle men, what chance do we have of passing it on?”

Tony shook his head disparagingly, allowing himself a passing glance over the remnants of the table, the lip prints on Peter’s soda glass, Dick’s inaptly named virgin bellini…

“How’s Selina?” he eventually asked.

“Presumably, enjoying fashion week with Jennifer and doing things that more than a few adult websites would love to get their hands on. I’m guessing Virginia’s at home with the children?”

“More or less.”

The unspoken, uncomfortable truth of the situation settled around them like a pervasive fog, as though both were conscious that a murder had taken place just down the hall and were mutually concealing the location of two rather small corpses.

“’m surprised you’re still out this late.” Wayne mentioned, with a glance over his shoulder that Tony guessed was meant to look casual. “I’d’ve thought your, um, ‘intern’ would need a lot of sleep, at his age. There was somethin’ Alfred used to say, ‘the man in the moon looked out of the moon, looked-‘”

“I’ve heard it.” Tony cut in. “He’s, uh – he’s pretty resilient, for his age.”

“Same as you, I’d guess.”

“Jesus, Brucie, hit me where it hurts why don’t you.”

Wayne sighed, with a hint of his usual condescending smile that had made Tony want to sock him ever since their days in boarding school.

“Look, Anthony… I know you too well to judge, and I’d _like_ to think you could say the same… so maybe we could quit pretending?”

Tony kept on his poker face.

“I don’t follow.” he deadpanned.

“I don’t blame you – he’s perfect. I saw the same thing in Richard, when I found him in the boys’ home. See, men like us… we know how to see what other men don’t. You’ve gotta be an artist, maybe even a madman in a way, and you think you can hide it behind shame and depression, until one day you look up and see this bright, beautiful little face staring at you like you hung the goddamn stars in the sky, and all for him. And that boy, that deadly little incubus, has no idea what he does to you or to everyone around him, but you know, deep down, that he’s all that matters in the world and you’d offer him your own heart on a diamond studded platter, if you thought it’d make him happy. Am I right?”

It took several seconds too long for Tony to force his throat into giving up an answer.

“… I guess this explains why you and Dawes never made things official.”

“Rachel knew well in advance that it was never gonna happen. Besides, he was a better man than me.”

Tony didn’t need to ask for clarification.

“Why is it,” he mused aloud, without fully realizing his self-betrayal, “there’s always a good woman left in the wings, who deserves the world, and instead gets stuck with a freak like one of us?”

Wayne shrugged.

“Selina seems happy. She’s got security, a really nice roof over her head, the chance to rub shoulders with senior citizens who drape themselves with lots of easily removable jewelry, and neither of us particularly care where the other spends the night. I can think of worse arrangements. Yours, for example.”

No kidding. The last time he’d spoken to Pepper, it had been to her unmoving profile through a car window, about an hour after she learned whom he’d be taking to Paris for the duration of their anniversary week.

“Look, I’m not saying I’m proud of myself,” Tony admitted quietly, rubbing at his temples. “And I’m not deluded enough to think it’ll last forever –“

“Of course not. We all grow up eventually.”

“No, that, uh – “ he shook his head with a slight shudder of disgust. “ _Definitely_ , not what I meant –“

“You don’t get it.” Wayne leaned forward, resting his elbows on the ivory tablecloth.

“Right now they’re young, defenseless –“

“You’d be surprised –“

“- they need something, some _one_ that they can look up to, that they can trust to keep them safe. We give them all of that, and more. We give them love.”

“Funny – I kinda thought that was their parents’ jobs.”

“Some of us aren’t that lucky.” Wayne broke in, and Tony felt a chill as though someone had dumped him into an ice bath, straight out of one of the more popular urban legends.

“I, uh – “

“Let’s just say, I know better than most. You never really shared the past Anthony, but I’ll bet you can imagine it, and I’ll go so far as to say you dreamed of it once. Do you know what it’s like to lie in a man’s arms, next to a roaring fire? Wrapped in furs while a blizzard tears through the mountains, and he whispers to you; how beautiful you are, how proud you’ve made him?”

“… Can’t say I’ve had the opportunity, no.”

Though he didn’t doubt Obadiah Stane would have liked to try.

“It’s more than gold, Anthony – it’s hope, and it keeps them alive when they know they have no one else, when they’d forgotten what hope even felt like, and it would have been better just to die, so that everything would stop hurting.”

Silence settled over the table once again, and just as Tony began hunting for an excuse to escape, the opportunity was offered to him by a harried looking man in a tuxedo.

“Excuse me, gentlemen – are you responsible for the young men in the entertainment hall? The waiters said you had entered together –“

“Something wrong?”

“Well, I – it’s rather difficult to explain –“

Tony was already on his feet and headed for the door, suspicions forming and rapidly confirmed when the concierge pushed open the double doors and he found a small crowd surrounding Peter and Dick as they flailed together on the brightly carpeted floor. Peter was already sporting an incredible black eye, and appeared to be in the process of stuffing an entire roll of redemption tickets in between Dick’s bleeding lips.

 _“- show you what happens when you open your fucking mouth!”_ he was shrieking, and it took a moment, as he pried him away, wriggling like a rabid animal, for Tony to notice that he was sobbing uncontrollably.

Wayne had his boy clutched up to his chest in one arm like a doll, while he pulled several blank checks from his breast pocket one-handed.

“’Think we’ll be making our goodnights – fill in the amount.”

 

*

 

Tony didn’t ask questions until they got back up to the suite, and he had Peter in the tub as it filled up with hot water.

Evidently, Dick had gotten in a few good blows before Peter found the upper hand, and as he smeared antiseptic over the worst of the bruises, where the skin had cracked and started to bleed, Tony couldn’t help but glance over the curve of Peter’s extraordinarily slender calves, the unbroken line of his smooth back, the underdeveloped muscles in his upper arms that simply advertised youth, and wondered if Bruce Wayne, for all his obvious faults, hadn’t been right.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought, and, as he’d trained himself to do, Tony attempted to camouflage the situation with weak humor.

“Just tell me it wasn’t over who got to have the blue stuffed unicorn.”

Peter didn’t reply, continuing to sit bruised and red-eyed in the bath like a battered child, his lip trembling, until he finally spoke.

“I’m not just a prize to you, right?” he whispered, in a voice too small for him.

Tony floundered for a moment, not sure what to say.

“… I’d never… for what it’s worth, I never thought of this – us – not like that. But if – Peter, I didn’t want to be a father to you when this started; you were bright, beautiful – and I love you, baby boy – but if a father’s what you need, then –“

He paused, as Peter made a face that traversed the gap between horror and disgust.

“That’s what you think? That I – that’s sick! I wanted you because you were everything I’d ever dreamed of – in a _boyfriend,_ Tony, God! I’ve never had daddy issu-!“

He was stopped by Tony’s lips on his own before he could finish vocalizing the thought.

“Ok.” Tony murmured, and Peter didn’t mention that he could feel his hand shaking a little where it rested on his cheekbone.

“Ok – tonight was bad. We can walk away from that. Same as we always were. Nothing ruined?”

Peter sucked in several breaths, staring back at dark eyes that he’d drunk in for the past six months – bright with joy, sharpened by rage, hazy with pleasure – and silently made his decision.

After all, he had no one else.

“Nothing ruined.”

 


End file.
